now here's the story

------------------------------------photo susi white


now here's the story
of a place so cold palms
rubbed themselves together
to have something close to hold

the sacred sites and chapels
lost their faces to the mold
grown by the foggy tongues of liars
who left the truth untold

give us strength
to slay these dragons
give us faith
to lose control
with the smokey eyes of battle
grant us grace
to unfold

we fled from eve's garden
abandoned the knoll
where the mother served her blessings
and the angels took parole

the saints have all gone running
put down their holy poles
they poked portals in the heavens
and are slipping through the holes

fifty foot flames

you pry apart the lips
of a fifty cent lawn chair
garage sale bargain
lock jawed with sea air

there's nothing in this town
but a lost child's theater
you'd passed my house
a thousand times
though you didn't know
i lived there

why does it take
fifty foot flames
for us to walk across the street
to learn
our neighbors names

the shingles slide like playing cards
the windows melt like taffy
the door frames snap like toothpicks
smoke bitter brown as coffee

you're flushed with blush- igneous
fire fingers flick at us
we take a turn to watch it burn
a heated urn
to love
love
we love to learn
we learn to burn
we burn to learn
we burn to learn

you pry apart the lips
of a fifty cent lawn chair
garage sale bargain
lock jawed with sea air

what's black and white

what's black and white
and red all over?
a boy at his piano
with the stage lights at his shoulder

handing over his explosives
like the hunt for red october
his bench is warming up
but the world is getting colder

whispers in the night
the exhiliration of a floater
when you dig your fins into the bottom
and get high off what you told her

sifters taking flight
the gambler leaning over
checking inbetween each ivory key
for that unturned four leafed clover

what's black and white
and red, red rover
lock your arm with mine
and send your sadness right over

KISS her on the neck
and forget you ever loathed her
i'm tugging at your cuff links
falling open like a folder

dark wind

it's the first of november
you feel her moving in
to strip down your branches
to goosebump your tanned skin

she comes after hay rides
cider and pumpkins
running laps around your mouth
spit glistening down your chin

she tell you where she's going
she won't tell you where she's been
she phantoms in like dry rain
and get's you sloshed like gin

there's no line between
where she ends and you begin
taking over like a pirate
moving in like dark
dark wind

a bit of heaven

i sat to close
to the window
to your fever hot, hot
to the mad hatter's laugh
to your worry wound rot

to the soft shelled crab
to your watering pot
to the taxi's cherry break lights
to the red sign's white stop

to the jars of sugar candies
to the callosed feet of the poor
to old man picking his nose
and then opening your door

to the pregnant penguin woman
with her crinkled coat of cash
to the questions in your suitcase
you'd never move to ask

to the plastic egg dispenser
to the permanent marker letters
splashed across the faded posterboard
like whirling modern dancers

and it's all out of focus
it's all too close to tell
if it's time to change the guard
if it's time to clank the bell

it's all a bit of heaven
it's all a bit of hell
fetching your pail of water
drawing wishes from the well

lost snake

someone else in in your window
someone else is in this bed
with the mouth of a widow
once alive, but not yet dead

she's a residue of kisses
a mason jar of pegs
that you'll poke in other bodies
to numb your flashback head

she's deep toned moaning floor boards
translucent yellow legs
drawing lies from a pin hole
as a needle pulls its thread

i'll bring her shiney cherries
i'll feed her warm cornbread
i'll give her the stupid attention
one gives bright-eyed newlyweds

you make some room beside us
you write down what she says
she says
this stage is not forever
even lost snakes will shed

now i can see behind
what she can see ahead
the lingering of a love song
once alive but now it's dead

get her out of this window
get her out of this bed
she's not your lonesome widow
you're still alive, it's she who's dead

needles are fun

the night is old, but we're still young
let's archive our freedom
needlea are fun
come on let's get tattoed

eenie-meenie, what do you choose
the sistine chapel, a snapshot of the news
a patchwork quilt in pasteled hues
a mariachi quartet, an octopus

a landscape of lovely
a tribute to time
a version of the constitution
with lines that ryhme

come on let's get tattoed

we're permanent
we'll never wash off
tucked under the skin
like ancient rocks

*

the night is young, but now we're old
my puffer fish is growing mold
your popeye portrait is tired of holding
his can of spinach, his pirated gold

and oh my jesus his colors less bold
heart and thorns disappearing in my folds
the new york skyline, slouching off my shoulders
the burning bush's flame, tamed down and smouldered

we're pemanent, we'll never wash off
just under the skin,
like ancient, ancient, ancient . . . .